


Thicker Than Blood

by JayEclipse



Series: Thicker Than Blood [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Molly Is Revived, Alternate Universe - Molly Lives, Amnesiac Mollymauk Tealeaf, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, Dungeons & Dragons Elements, Fights, Mollymauk Tealeaf Lives, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Mollymauk Tealeaf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23483308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayEclipse/pseuds/JayEclipse
Summary: Alone, that was something Mollymauk did not like to be. But given he had no clue where he could begin to look for his past, for his former friends that was something he had to deal with often. In between short times where he was with the woman who revived him, the woman who he was now working for.The past few months hadn't been kind to the Mighty Nein, but they had been down right cruel to Molly.(Spoilers up till episode 99)
Series: Thicker Than Blood [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695052
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	1. Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you all enjoy my first foray into Critical Role fan fic!

Blood gushes out of an open wound, the bitter chill already taking the warmth out of the creatures body. He crouches down, leaning one of his forearms on his knee, the scimitar in his hand touches and stains the snow with red, meanwhile with his other hand he grabs the creature by the chin? He wasn’t entirely sure the anatomy of the creature, but that was his closest guess. “Your blood is going to a good place, I promise.”

He reaches into a pouch on his side and after a moment of rifling through its contents, he pulls out what he had been looking for. A glass vial, brittle from the cold. He pulls out the cork then holds the vial to the wound, letting it catch most of the blood gushing out. Some spills over the glass. And more yet, gets on to his hand. He doesn’t grimace, the feeling of fresh blood is anything but a stranger to his hands.

Once it’s full he puts the cork back in, some of the blood comes out of the neck of the bottle. He must have over filled it. He stands up and puts his weapon away, and wipes his blood hand with some of the cloth on his outfit, nowhere it would show up, he wasn’t a slob. He takes a sigh of relief, his breath coming out as a fog in front of his face. He finally could get out of the damn cold that Avila had sent him into. It had been fine for the first day or two, but two weeks worth of tracking down monsters far below his fighting skills just to collect their blood would take their toll on anyone, especially in bone chilling cold.

He marches his way back to his camp. It’s a simple set up; a campfire in the centre, a tent close enough to get the warmth but not so close as to set ablaze, and a tiny cooking set up. If it weren’t his last day here he would have brought the monster carcass with him to cook up the edible parts for supper. 

He ducks into his tent. The inside of it is a messy sprawl of his sleeping bag and his belongings. He’ll deal with packing all of that in a moment but first he searches for a scroll. Despite being a tiefling with some access to magic, along with technically speaking a blood mage, he rarely dabbled in the arcane. But due to the nature of the missions Avila sent him on, they needed a long distance method of communication and sending scrolls was the simplest one she had. There was probably some magical item out there that could act as a form of communication, but he had yet to get his hands on it.

He read over the scroll then pulled out a copper wire from the pouch of things Avila wanted him to keep on his person. He fumbles over the casting words but it seems to work, there is no clear indicator but he feels it in his gut. So he speaks clearly, and carefully, probably best not to waste the one scroll that’d get him out of here. “I got the job done. Didn’t run into any major problems, just some stained clothes. Mind coming and picking me up?” He asks as if she’d even think for a second about abandoning him in the mountains, which considering he’s carrying the rare components for spells she’s working on seems doubtful.

Only a moment later he hears Avila’s voice in his head. “Wonderful. There have been some… developments since we last spoke. I’ll retrieve you by nightfall.”

He sits down in the middle of the tent, the sleeping bag isn’t the most comfortable in the world but it’s done it’s job in keeping him warm in the cruelly cold nights. He strokes his chin, Avila was not someone who was nervous of almost anything. So whatever these ‘developments’ were, they had to be serious.

After a few minutes of resting from the latest of his kills he gets up to start packing. He probably had two hours to do this, and not a whole load of stuff, but he was getting restless. He grabs what looks like a hikers backpack, though he knows it can hold far more than just a backpack could, plus it was easy to find stuff in it, the things just appearing at the top as he needs them. He starts with the extra clutter laying around, dice and cards he was using to try and keep himself entertained, a gray pouch he was still trying to figure out the effects of, and some stuff he bought for bathing. It turned out that while his flame rite could be used to make snow melt, it also made him bleed all over the place, so it was decidedly not worth the trouble. 

Next was camping gear he didn’t immediately need. He pondered over the cooking gear for a good five minutes before deciding that he could just eat when he got back to the hideout, the food would be better there anyways. So he packed that next. Soon he was just left with the sleeping bag and tent left. He trusted that she’d be there before nightfall like what she said, but in the back of his head there was a nagging fear that he’d be left setting up a tent in the freezing night. He shakes those fears and finishes packing.

The sun starts to set over the rocky cliffs that all but surround him. Thankfully he isn’t overly claustrophobic or this campsite would have been a nightmare. He didn’t do so well when in an actually small space, he hated the feeling of being cramped in somewhere not to mention how it made his heart race. But here between the mountains there was plenty of air to breath.

He half sat, half leaned on a large rock. He pulls out a cloth from his haversack and then bends down and grabs some snow and puts it in the middle of the cloth, letting the snow melt with the warmth of his hand. He might as well clean his scimitars with this free time. He first draws out the normal out of the two, the one he keeps in his off hand. There’s minimal grim on it and after a quick wipe it’s about as clean as it’s going to get without a deep clean. Next he draws out the one he uses in his main hand. It’s made of a dark gray metal, there is a metal skull on the hilt of the blade, and another one on the butt of the handle. Both skulls have a red gem in the mouth, he’s so far failed to identify what kind of gem but his guess would be ruby or garnet. Blood had found its way into the creases of the handle and dried, the cloth got some of it, but most of it was too worked in to get rid of without submerging the blade in water.

He puts both scimitars away and throws the cloth back into the haversack. None of that really did anything other than keep his mind off of the fact that he was waiting out in the cold for possibly another hour. The sun was setting but she never said how soon before nightfall she’d arrive. He glances over at the unlit fire pit, it’s probably worth the effort to light it.

Just as the fire starts to get going he spots something ot of the corner of his eye, a light in the sky. He turns to take a proper look, a small frown on his face. If he finished lighting this fire just for Avila to arrive right as he’s done… well he won’t be happy that’s for sure. It’s hard to see against the pink sky but four lights slowly rise up into the sky, forming a loose arrow pointing down. That’s about as clear a signal as he needs to know to get a move on. He kicks some snow over the fire, putting a good chunk out then starts the march to where Avila was.

As he gets to the treeline he hears Avila’s voice in his head. “I’ve arrived, I’m a couple miles away from your camp, so I’ve put some dancing lights in the sky, follow those.”

He replies. “Got it. Funny thing, you got here just as I finally got a fire going, thought I could get a couple minutes of warmth before you’d show up. But that clearly isn’t happening.”

He didn’t really keep track of how many words he was using, though he was pretty sure he got cut off by the twenty five word limit. It was a shame that the spell had a word limit like that, he wondered if there was an improvement out there for it. He bet there was, it was probably hard to learn and took too much out of person to be used casually though. 

The walk wasn’t the worst he'd had while here, that dubious honor would go to when there was a blizzard and one of the harder to find creatures he needed had finally left a trail he could follow. That day had been miserable. This walk however was just calm, and quiet. It felt wrong.

After all the solitude filled missions Ailva had sent him on he was starting to loathe the quiet, the stillness, the loneliness. It was like a goliath trying on a dwarfs armor, too tight and constricting and anything but comfortable. Of course he could talk to himself, or sing something, or even just scream for the stake of screaming. But none of it was enough to fight off that feeling of wrongness.

Soon enough he enters a small clearing and sees Avila. She’s a woman in her forties, her dark brown hair starting to gray from both age and stress. Her medium toned skin stands out against the harsh white of the snow. He can’t see her eyes from this distance but he’d be surprised if they were anything other than their usual emerald green. It looks like she threw on a heavy dark clock over her usual outfit. A long sleeved blue dress where the skirt ended below her knees in the front it went down a little further in the back. There is gold trim along the edges and on the chest there’s a pattern that he’s sure is a reference to some group or cult but he doesn’t know which one. Over the dress she has a short sleeved white jacket that veers off to the sides as it approaches her chest. She also has dark stockings and boots on.

As he walks over to her he looks down to his side and releases the pouch from his belt and then holds it up. “One delivery of monster blood as per ordered.” He tilts his head down in a half bow, like how a performer would after a show, with a cocked grin on his face.

She snatches it out of his hand and opens it. As she begins her brief perusal of its contents he straightens himself out. She peers over the pouch at him. “Excellent work, it would have been better if this was finished sooner but I understand you had some difficulties?”

He gives a nod. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to find some of these things, they’d probably be better suited to being thieves than monsters in the wilderness if it weren’t for the lack of thumbs.”

She grabs the vials from the pouch, tucking them into a bag of her own, then hands it back over to him. He puts it back on his belt. “That’s the reason I sent  _ you  _ instead of hiring some hunters to do it.”

He gives a chuckle. “I doubt they would have done this for free as well. Let’s not pretend stinginess isn’t one of the factors here.”

She shakes her head to herself then motions him to come closer. “Let’s get out of this cold, hm?”

He nods again and steps beside her. He watches as she says the words for the spell. Then a moment later he feels like he’s been pushed through a thin wall. He knows that nothing like that had just occurred but it was his best way of describing it.

Their surroundings are radically different. They now are in a dim wizard laboratory. The location they had been calling their hideout for the past two months. He had spent most of that time away from here though, so his space was barely noticeable in the corner. What was very noticeable however was how much of a mess everything was, which was not normal. Ailva was no neat freak but she kept her working space tidy. But at the moment it looked like a raccoon had taken over for a week. 

“... Well, a lot must have happened while I was gone, huh?”


	2. Servant

“Not exactly.” Avila turns again from him and goes over to a table against the wall, takes a brief glance at something on it then turns to face him, a sharp look in her eyes and a frown on her lips. “A group is coming here looking for me. It seems we haven’t been careful enough. If they get their way they will at best get us jailed by the dynasty and at worst brutally kill us and take my research and use it for their own ends.”

He stares at her for a moment, stunned. Then puts his hands on his hips and slowly shakes his head to himself. “Well, shit. You seem scared of these guys, which I’m going to take as a grave sign of their prowess. Who are they?”

She sighs, and after a moment of thinking she answers. “The Mighty Nein. They’re a group that easily could be dismissed out of hand, except for the fact that I’ve noted how many allies they have and at this point their allies go from crime lords to captains of guards to members of governments and powerful mages. I am not going to risk underestimating them.”

“It’s a bit of a strange name. I’m supposing there’s nine of them?”

She shakes her head. “No, there’s seven of them.”

He can’t help but laugh at that information. Is that group seriously running around calling themselves that with only seven members? He has to imagine they get so many comments about it. Not to mention he’s pretty sure ‘nein’ meant ‘no’ in zemnian, though he had no clue where he picked that information up from.

“This is no laughing matter Tealeaf!” She crosses her arms and gives him a disapproving look. 

He stops and stands up straight, eyes focused on Avila. There is a glint of something in her eyes as she looks at him. He can’t place what it is but it makes him uncomfortable. The ever so slight smile on her face doesn’t help that matter in the slightest. There isn’t anything he can do however.

“Help me pack up the essentials then we make a plan on what to do about  _ them _ .”

“Understood.” He says flatly.

They both quickly get to work. Avila seems preoccupied by scrounging up all her notes and journals and placing them her in bag. So Molly decides to grab the other essentials that probably aren’t crossing her mind. Spell components, including the ones she had made him go look for while she… did whatever she does when he isn’t around which he imagines is reading, writing, and ethically questionable magical experiments, so basically what she did when he was around. A change of clothes, some food for that matter, along with his own belongings, of which there were few but he rather not lose them.

As he finishes his corner of the room he takes a moment to watch her. She’s careless as she stuffs more paper into a leather bag. There’s a focus in her eyes that he knows is making her blind to anything not in front of her. He could probably be bleeding out on the floor at the moment and she wouldn’t notice till she tripped over him. There’s almost a desperation in her hands as she grabs any writing in her sight. He hasn’t seen her like this before, his eyes are wide watching this. He feels shaken, she’s the one with the reins but she’s panicking, he just has to hope she gets back in control. For both of their stakes.

It was night by the time they have everything they need packed. Molly sits down on one of the wooden chairs, slightly dusty and worn. It creaks under him. “If that wasn’t a packing frenzy I’m not sure what is.”

Avila leaned against the table and looked at him. “I suppose it was. We need to talk about the plan now.”

He shifts in his seat, leaning forwards, resting his chin on the back of his hand. “Tell me  _ all  _ about, Ava.”

“I think a distraction is in order. I take the important things away and to safety-”

“While I risk my life fighting seven people? Some of who I’m guessing are magic users?”

She shakes her head. “You won’t be fighting them, you will be making them go on a wild goose chase. Let them see you once, toy with them a bit, then run as far as you can south. I’ll contact you in a few days to find out where you are then hopefully I’ll be able to teleport to you and take you to the new hideout.”

He raises the hand he was supporting his chin with, two fingers are curled out, vaguely pointing at her. “Do we even have another hideout? Because this is the first I’m hearing about it.”

She smirks. “I don’t tell you everything.”

He scoffs. “You barely tell me  _ anything _ . It took a week to find out your name.”

“Anyways. Do you think you can manage that?” She crosses her arms and looks downwards at him. He knows this isn’t a question, this is an order.

“But of course. I mean, what can’t I do if I put my mind to it?”

“Great. I should give you a run down of what I know about them, shouldn’t I?”

“That would be nice, yes.”

“I should note this is second hand information and what I’ve seen-”

His eyebrow perked up. “Seen?”

“I’ve been scrying on them. Anyways, there is a wizard named Caleb, his magic is versatile and will probably include some movement options, he seems to favor fire magic for attacks. Though he may freeze up after larger fire spells.”

“Ah huh, just fire spells?”

“Yes, just fire spells.”

He looks off to the side and muses to himself. “Why would you use fire magic if it makes you freeze up?”

“Then there is Jester, a tiefling who appears to be a cleric. I believe she’s more ice based than fire but I’m not sure on that. She also seems to be… tricky to say the least.”

“I like the name, hmm, Jester. It says a lot about her in two syllables, besides it’s got a nice ring to it.”

“Next is Beau. She’s a monk of the cobalt soul. I can not empathize this enough, do not get close to her. She can stun you, she can force you to tell the truth-”

“And that’d be a nightmare wouldn’t it?” He gives her a pointed look.

“She is one of the biggest threats in that group for you. Worse yet she’s fast, very fast.”

“Got it, keep the hell away from the monk. Who’s next?”

“The halfling rogue. I don’t actually know her name. She’s sneaky and she’s got range but she shouldn’t be a huge problem.”

“What kind of reconnaissance have you been doing where you don’t know her name but seem to know everyone else's?”

“She might be a former goblin but I’m not sure. If she is her name is Nott.”

“... How the hell does somebody get turned into a halfling from being a gobin?”

“I’m not sure, I am interested however. Unfortunately I don’t have a chance to find out at the moment.”

“Cause the people who do know are coming here to jail and/or kill us?”

“Precisely. There also is another cleric, Caduceus Clay. he is very aware of his surroundings.”

“Great so sneaking around is going to be a pain in the arse, like I needed more problems.”

“Yasha, a barbarian. She shouldn’t cause you too many problems. Just try to not get hit by her. It’s be a shame if you died on this mission.”

“Agreed full heartedly there.”

“And lastly Fjord. He’s a… warlock and paladin-”

“Gotta wonder what went so wrong with the good old patron that he felt the need to start being religious.”

“He’s also very mobile and his spells have a pretty good range.”

“They are a mobile bunch aren’t they?”

“They do spend a considerable amount of time running away from the problems they can’t outright kill.”

“Hm.” Honestly that seems smart to him, why fight if you can get the hell out of dodge, not that he thought Avila would appreciate his thoughts on the matter. “They are quite the menagerie.”

“They are, and that’s part of what makes them so dangerous. They are unpredictable and unorthodox. Do you know the saying about how a master doesn’t fear another master but a beginner?”

“Vaguely.”

“There is a point in it. It’s hard to tell what they are going to do, because no matter what it is it will not be the thing they ought to do.”

“Lucky for us that I work the same way isn’t it?”

She looks him over for a moment, a moment too long for him to not notice. He can’t tell what she’s thinking and he probably doesn’t want to know. “Lucky indeed.”

He’s soon alone in the hideout. He was vaguely told they were up the path that leads towards the nearest town but he has not a clue of how close or far they are. It’s a little unsettling, he isn’t sure if he’s got the time to dilly dally and make sure nothing is forgotten here, but the alternative of leaving something important is even less appealing than getting walked in on. 

He rifles through random pieces of paper, none of them have anything he thinks is important, and unfortunately some are in languages he can’t read. Common was hard enough for him to understand when written down so he doesn’t have a chance with those other papers. 

He’s just about to stop and get going when a piece of parchment catches his eye. It looks worn and it’s ripped at the bottom out but it all the same catches his eye. He picks it up and reads it.

“If you awaken, please come find us. Talk to The Gentleman in Zadash, he’s based out of the Evening Nip, he should help you. If he doesn’t, try Cree, she likes you. Though don’t trust her, we aren’t sure of her agenda. 

Your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf, a blood hunter and circus performer and our friend.”

The bottom of the letter looks like the bottom, where presumably the writer signed the note, is ripped off. Which is beyond frustrating considering they played the pronoun game in the rest of the note. He turns the page over looking for any clue on who wrote it but the back is blank.

Great, even more fucking mysteries about who he was! Like he didn’t have enough of those. He had woken up without memory of his prior life, he had to be told his name by Avila. He barely understood his own abilities. And apparently there was even more, more that Avila knew. He glares at the door she had left through, then folds up the paper and tucks it into a pocket. He’d take any scrap of that former Mollymauk and make it his own. Because he knows he left something important behind. If it weren’t for that sinking feeling that kept him up at night and made silence unbearable he’d be happy to leave the past behind, focus on the future.

But he couldn’t, not yet.

And he also can’t do anything against Avila for keeping this from him. He can’t touch a hair on her head. He’s bound to her, bound to be her faithful servant. And when he thinks about it too hard, or for too long, it makes him sick with fear and anger. Enough of both to rip out a throat. But maybe that was a benefit to her, having someone on the leash who could be so violent.

He goes to the doorway, takes one last solem look at the hideout, then heads out the door into the night air.


	3. Hunter

In the darkness stalking through the trees he could push the note out of his mind, that was a problem for future Molly. Current Molly had a distraction to make. He wasn’t the best at stealth, not by far. But there were things he was far worse at. Besides, he did have a few things that were helpful? His boots are making his tracks look like a deer’s just in case they are closer to the hideout than he thinks. And actually come to think about it, that was the only thing that was particularly helpful.

The silence is killing him as he continues along the bushes beside the road. He’d usually talk to himself or hum to at least try to get his mind off of it, but he can’t even do that for the moment. It’d give him away like a fruit to a fly. 

As he approaches a fork in the road he knows well he hears a group. Probably the Mighty Nein, else he’s got a whole new set of problems. He lurks further into the trees and shadows, hoping to obscure himself. He needs them to notice him at some point he’d like a moment to get to know them so too say.

A menagerie of people come down the road. It’s them, he knows that in every part of their body. He doesn’t even need to recall what Avila told him about them. There’s no doubt in his mind.

The brown skinned monk he was told is named Beauregard gives a ginger man a pat on the back, he must be Caleb, and he must be bothered, judging by the frown on his face. Beauregard’s words become understandable as they get closer. “Look even if they are the same witch, we can deal with this! Look at all the other huge shit we’ve dealt with! Nasty stuff from the past is the least of it.”

Caleb slightly turns his head towards her, he speaks in a zemnian accent. “That doesn’t make this  _ any  _ less concerning. Look at the other people who have... dabbled in this sort of  _ business _ . All of them are  _ beyond  _ our current capabilities.”

“Well this person is clearly in hiding for a reason. If she was as powerful as a member of the assembly what would she be doing in the middle of nowhere?”

“There are a lot of powerful wizards who’d prefer to just be left  _ alone _ . We  _ need  _ to be  _ careful _ .”

Caleb and Beauregard continue past him, letting him hear the middle of the… pack? For lack of a better word.

A blue tiefling who he must assume is Jester is speaking with a tall pale woman, Yasha. His heart feels like a tree hit by lighting, not that he knows why. Jester speaks and he has to admit that he likes her accent more than Calebs. “Just if you need anything, let me know.”

Yasha looks down at her, a soft smile on her face. “I’ll try. But maybe this doesn’t have anything to do with  _ him _ ?” there’s a sadness in her last word that Molly can’t place.

“Hmm, maybe. But I think everyone is preparing for this to be related for a reason, so it might be a good idea.”

“I know, and I am. But I don’t know, it feels wrong.”

Jester’s eyebrow rises. “Really? How so?”

“He didn’t want to know his past, he spent his whole life trying to avoid that man he was before. And now we might be uncovering it. It feels almost disrespectful. I know we need to stop her, but if we end up capturing her and the others question her about Molly, I am going to be leaving the room.”

He knows it’s not a rare name per say, but hearing his own name spoken by this gentle giant of a woman still stuns him with thought enough to not catch what Jester’s response is as they move ahead and the next pair got close.

A half orc, Fjord surely. And a short woman in a yellow dress that he’s not sure the name of. The woman speaks. “Boy I am glad that this isn’t on the sea.”

“You’ve said that for the past three jobs we’ve done since getting back from Traveler con.”

“With good reason! The minute with left the fleet’s copeny we ended up fighting a freaking dragon turtle! That was horrible! Not to mention what happened at Travler con with the-”

Fjord raises his hands and slightly shakes his head. “Okay I get it, I get it.”

“Plus you died! You’re the water guy and the sea isn’t even safe for you!”

“Cause of an angry god, the sea itself is fine, No- Veth.”

“Nice save.”

“Ya know it’s getting a lot easier.”

Veth thinks for a moment before she says. “Honestly, same thing here.”

They continue their chatting as they walk further away from him. And the last member of the group enters his earshot. A tall, moss covered, firbolg, it had to be Caduceus. Who isn’t talking, he’s just eyeing his surroundings with a peaceful air about him. It seems more like he’s taking them in as someone would on a nature walk and less like a paranoid adventurer.

But all the same his eyes dart towards where Molly is. He holds his breath, not daring to make a sound or move a muscle. The moment of Caduceus looking at him feels like it lasts an eternity. Then it ends, Molly feels his body relax.

Only to tense up again as Caduceus calls out. “Wait!”

Everyone turns to look at him, some looking confused, others such as Caleb looking concerned. “Someone’s there.” He points right at where Molly is.

Molly can feel his heart begin to race as everyone looks and readies themself for a fight, he quickly does the same.

Before he has time to react Jester runs in close to the bushs and just as she passes by a tree he can no longer see her, as if she vanished. He could question it but he knows he needs to start the chase. 

He steps out of the bushes with a little bow for flair, as his head comes back up he can see ice cold shock in everyone’s eyes. Most of all Beauregard and Yasha, both have their mouths agape. Caleb calls out “Molly?!”

He’ll deal with the fact that these people clearly knew him. For the moment he needs to get them away from the hideout. Those orders play on repeat in his head like a mantra that just won’t fucking shut up till he does it.

So he turns from the group and starts running south, at least he hopes that it’s south or else Avila will be beyond pissed at him. He pushes himself as hard as he can to run away from them. Something in his heartaches.

He hears panting behind him and looking back he sees a halfling jumping straight at him screaming “You won’t get away!” He can almost make the concerned faces of her allies behind her.

He feels her arms around him as she clings on to him. Her arms are so tightly around him and the weight distribution is so awkward he knows he’s going to have to get her off of him if he wants to move. Instead he starts reaching for his scimitars

Beauregard runs over, the shock still worn on her face. She looks him in the eyes, a weariness in her eyes and then hits him in the neck, very close to one of the red parts of his tattoos, with one of her knuckles. He feels like it should have done something but he feels no effect.

“Who are you?” She says through gritted teeth.

“I’ve been called many things.” He says with a nearly viscous smile on his face.

Fjord jogs over, takes a deep breath and then stares at Molly who can’t help but feel like a special at a circus with all the damn staring.

“Now what in the hell is happening?”

Beau’s eyes him. “Good fucknig question-” She stares Molly in the eyes again. “What is happening here?”

Molly gives his attempt at a shrug, though it’s more like a slight shoulder movement thanks to the halfling clinging on to him.

Yasha marches over, a frown on her face but a look of curiosity in her eyes. A curiosity he can tell can quickly change into something heartwarming or something deadly. She stands right behind Beau, also staring at him. He’s gotta wonder who’s going to blink first.

Caleb finally gets over to where all the action is happening. He’s a hard read person, all Molly can see on his face are traces of hurt as he stands besides Fjord, off to the side of the women. He looks at Beau, “Did you do that truth thing?”

“I did, I don’t think it worked though.”

Caduceus yells from a good 30 feet away, seems like he didn’t want to dash over like how everyone else did. “You guys got that handled?”

Fjord shouts back. “I think so!”

“This! Is! Harder! Than It Looks!” Veth shouts as she continues to cling to him.

He spots over with Caduceus, Jester suddenly appearing, her hand slightly extended towards him, her mouth just finishing saying something. He doesn’t feel any different but no matter how he feels she just casted a spell on him.

He finally gets his scimitars in hand, he first slashes his own leg with the dark gray scimitar, some blood spilling out of leg. The scimitar gives off a crackling static. He then slashes the dark gray one at Veth’s arm. Her arm flinches out of the way of it as with his other scimitar he slashes at her side. She pulls away but it hits her still and he can tell there’s now some blood running down that pretty yellow dress, hopefully she likes orange.

“He’s violent!” She yells at her friends who all look even more stunned at the event unfolding in front of them.

She grabs a hold of him even tighter than before. He hears a crackle of electricity from her handles and then feels a shock run though his body like lightning. “Don’t reist!”

Beau swings her fist at his face, landing square in the jaw. His head feels like it’s spinning. His muscles tense up for a moment but relax again, or at least as much as they can after being shocked by Veth.

Fjord rushes into the fray, a large frown on his face. He tries to shove Molly from behind, also shoving Veth with him but he manages to shift to the side letting Fjord stumble forwards a few steps before regaining his balance.

Yasha steps forwards, almost clearing a path where she goes as the others step back to let her into the heart of this fray. “If you are actually Molly, we are your friends. Why are you attacking us? If you aren’t-” A dark look comes to her face, one he’s only had twice. “I’ll kill you myself for pretending to be him.”

“As far as I’m aware my name is Molly, but I think I’d remember a lot like you.” That was a lie, he can’t remember anything from before Avila revived him.

A look of realization spreads across her face, she was having one of those moments where everything clicks together.

Caduceus calmly walks over. Takes one look at the situation, then says “Is this what he looked like alive?”

Beau answers, her words sounding more blunt than before. “For the most part, different clothes, longer hair. But yeah, pretty much.”

He touches Beau on the arm, muttering something to himself. 

Jester joins the circle of people around him staring at him and Veth. Then approaches the inner circle made up of Beau, Caduceus, and Fjord. “You know, I think  _ you  _ really think we’re cool and worth talking to and not like, stabbing and stuff.”

He felt a wave of magic wash over him, he knows it well. He’s used it on plenty of people. Though it felt far different to have it used on him. And come to think about it, she at least, is pretty cool. He isn’t so sure about her friends however. His loosens the grip on his blades, it’d be bad form to attack her friends.

Beau looks over at Jester, “Is he?”

Jester nods. “He’s friendly, Veth I think you can get off him now.”

Veth practically flings herself off of him. “Oh thank god, next time we’re grappling someone, Fjord you get to do it.”

“I would have  _ this  _ time but you bolted after him and jumped at him and at that point what was I meant to do?”

Veth stays quiet for a moment before replying. “Fair point.”

Caleb joins the inner circle, standing next to Beau. He looks Molly over once then says. “Why were you spying on us?”

He shakes a finger at the wizard as he starts to casually pace, gaining the glare of Beau. “Now that’s a good question. It’s not very often you get such a… colorful group of people through these parts and I simply had to check it out.”

A fist grabs his collar stopping him in his tracks. “Bullshit, I don’t think anybody is in the mood to be going around in circles here. So you better get explaining.”

“Guys!” Jester shouts, “Maybe we should try the friendly approach?”

He glances over to Beau as she points a finger at him. “With the guy who looks like our dead friend?”

He puts his hands up. “Woah, woah, woah! You could have mentioned that sooner! Sure let’s talk.”

It’s not ideal, but it’s keeping them distracted. He’d bolt, but he’s curious about this dead Molly fellow who apparently looked like how he does. And somewhere deep in him he doesn’t want to leave yet.

She gives him a look then releases his collar.

“Let us get this first thing  _ clear _ , what do you  _ know  _ about yourself?” Caleb asks. 

Molly paces over to a tree and leans against it. If he was going to be questioned by a charming girl and the… people with her, to put it kindly considering one of them punched his face and another shocked him, he was going to do it while looking mysterious and intriguing if he could.. The blood coming out of his leg probably isn’t helping but there is nothing to do about it now.

“Hmm, well let’s see. I’m a blood hunter-” He gestures towards his leg with the dark gray scimitar which still has a faint crackle of electricity coming off of it. “-and I’m pretty good at it. I’m working as a… bounty hunter I guess? It’s a little hard to put a word on, maybe a hunter? I kill stuff and take things from what I kill.”

“Who employs you?” Beau asks.

“Plenty of people, some magic users, some leather workers, and some people who I don’t even bother to ask the occupation of, they wouldn’t tell me I was sure. I don’t work for any single person. I work for money, travel, and comfort. I’m sure you’ve all been  _ there _ .”

“That was a long while ago, like half a year at least!” Veth turns to Caleb for confirmation that her estimate is right. He gives her a small nod.

“So what brought you to us?” Beau takes a step forward as she asks.

“I was honestly in the woods doing my own thing. Work sure, but nothing that affects you all. Then heard some people, and worried it was bandits I hid. Once I found out you weren’t I guess I coulda left, but at that point I was too curious and you were all talking so loudly.”

Beau raises an eyebrow. “Why did you run?”

“Well all looked about ready to fight when he-” He gestures one of his scimitars at Caduceus “-pointed me out. I panicked and fled.”

Beau’s eyebrow manages to find a way to climb higher on her face. “You didn’t seem all that panicked when you came out of the bushes with a grin on your face mock bowing.”

“That’s my panic response.”

Beau just stares at him for a moment. He stares right back. No one dares to break the silence.

At least not until Veth speaks up. “What the hell kind of panic response is that?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was the first chapter with combat in it. If it feel's a little weird that's because I actually ran the combat segments as a dnd combat encounter with only one or two nudged rolls for the stake of the plot. If you are interested in the technical side of it I'll be posting a battle summery as a different fic which will be updated as more combat happens.


	4. Hunted

“A unique one.” Molly answers.

Beau gives him another look, it’s more than disapproving. But she doesn’t seem like she’ll press more on that. Thankfully. It almost stings talking to these people knowing that he’s going to run away and meet back up with Avila. His hand traces where he put the note. It’s unlikely, one in a million odds really. But how many people that looked like him were on the continent of Wildmount? Maybe if they saw the tattoos under his armor and clothing they’d realize he was a different Molly than their dead friend.

“Pardon if this sounds like a weird question but, do you know if you’ve ever died?” Fjord asks. Something about his accent keeps throwing Molly off, it just seems… wrong?

Molly looks down at himself, then at both of his arms, closely examining them. Then looks at the party. “Pretty sure I’m alive, if that answers your question.”

Caduceus steps forward. “There are many, many ways a person can come back from death.”

“A talented cleric for one.” Jester adds.

“Well I’ve only just met a talented cleric so that couldn’t have happened now could it?”

“Aw thank- Wait a minute!” Jester looks at him. “How did you know I’m a cleric?”

Molly looks her over, trying to find some clue of it outside of the fact that Avila told him she’s a cleric. And he can’t see anything on her, no clear symbol of a god and there are many types of spell casters who can be as charming as her. Hell, while he didn’t exactly have natural charm he could magic gifted by his blood to make do in a pinch.

“Hm, call it a hunch.” 

Caduceus frowns, an eyebrow raises. “Did someone tell you about us?”

He was really starting to hate this firbolg. Keen eyed and apparently insightful as well. A fucking nightmare was what he was to Molly. 

“I’ve heard rumors…”

Everyone at this point looks at each other. Veth says something in a language he can’t understand and Beau looks at her then at Caduceus and says something in a different language, Caduceus nods then turns to Caleb and says something in yet another language. Caleb turns to Yasha and says something in another fucking language, Molly has to wonder how many fucking languages due these folks know? Yasha gives a frown and turns away from Caleb.

Fjord and Jester seem to be just as confused as he is at least as they both are looking at each other mouthing “What the hell are they talking about?”

Before he can ponder what was happening Beau was right in front of him and punching him square in the gut, he can’t breath for a second and his ribs feel like they are killing him. Then he feels his muscles tense up. Ah, so this is why Beau was considered the most dangerous.

He can see behind her Veth looks to be having an epiphany. “I should have just used message!”

Jester and Fjord shot her a glance of bewildered confusion, their eyes wide and a little agape.

Yasha pushes past Veth and comes over. Grabbing his stiff arms and holding them behind him. Even once the stun is over with he isn’t going anywhere is he? Anger starts to bubble up in him. 

The firbolg points the end of his staff at Molly and says something. Molly knows spell casting when he sees it but he doesn’t know what’s been casted on him.

Caleb at just about the same time casts something. It doesn’t seem to have an effect.

“Caleb! I already used dispel magic on him.”

“ _ Oh _ , well best to make sure.”

Molly would love to be free of the women's grasp so that he could make them  _ hurt _ . Make them bleed and actually get his mission done instead of this  _ shit _ .

He can see Jester in the background start talking to the air as if it was somebody. Something about a Traveler?

The halfling stomps over and gets in front of him. Giving him what he can imagine the meanest face she can give. “You better start giving us some awnears or I’ll shock you again!” 

While that was unpleasant to say the least he wasn’t exactly shaking in his boots.

“Can  _ we  _ please just talk. That is  _ all  _ we are trying to do here. You are  _ confused  _ and so are  _ we _ .” The wizard says.

Molly just smiles at him, teeth showing. He knows it’s not a pleasant smile, none of his smiles are these days. It’s vicious and cutting, like him.

He can spot out of the corner of his eye the firbolg eyeing him, not doing anything, just watching. 

He still can’t make his muscles move the way he wants them too.

The monk seems to think for a moment, then says. “Have you seen a woman out here? She’s a magic user.”

Molly would shake his head if he could but he can’t, well couldn’t. He feels his muscles finally relax enough for him to move them.

His lips curl further into a smile as he stabs back his offhand, first slashing himself making his blade give off a fiery warmth and then further back to slash the barbarian and lunges his main weapon towards the halfling. He can hear a grunt behind him as he sees the halfling get scraped by his blade, more blood coming out of her staining the ground. 

“We need him unconscious!” The half orc calls out as he runs over. He raises his sword and comes down with the blunt end. It hits him square in the head and the world feels like it’s spinning.

He can hear a sigh from behind him, it’s from Yasha. Then he feels her head hit his. If the world wasn’t spinning before it was now.

He hears in the distance that the other tiefling is continuing her chatting. Thankfully not joining in on the ganging up on him that is occurring.

The halfling charges in with shortsword in hand, her sword plunges right into him. He spits out blood on to the ground involuntarily, his head hanging down in pain. He knows he’s looking rough, beyond rough. But he's got a goddamn job to do.

The wizard grabs a pinch of fine sand from his component pouch and traces his finger through it before blowing it out of his palm. He stares at Molly for a moment before sighing as nothing happens.

The firbolg pushes his way into the fray and touches Molly on the shoulder. He feels a small wave of magic wash over him as the firbolg steps back. As he steps away Molly lunges his dark gray scimitar at him, the moment before any connection is made between blade and flesh, or if he was unlucky blade and metal the two just look each other in the eyes. There’s a look of concern in the firbolg’s eyes. 

The blade scraps against metal as the firbolg gets out of reach.

A fist hits him in the jaw, more blood comes out of his mouth and he feels as if a tooth has been knocked loose. The fist comes back getting his chest this time, it hurts less but only in comparison. The fist comes back one last time, getting him in the rib, which he can tell cracks. 

Another round of his is going to take him down, he can tell that. 

He smiles at them all as he disappears from their view and enters the ethereal plane. He steps out from the barbarian's grasp as she looks around confused. He then starts running southwards, he only has twenty one seconds before he’s back on the normal plane. As he runs he turns back to see their confused faces.

He can see the half orc say something and then run towards him, his blade glows for a moment. Then he hears him yell. “He’s over here!”

Well there goes the stealth. But they still couldn’t touch him. 

The barbarian comes charging towards where the half orc is. She lets out a cry of rage. The look on her face has turned dark.

He can hear more footsteps behind him as he turns his head away from his pursuers.

Just then he sees in front of him a twenty foot tall wall of flame burst up from the ground. He turns and sees the wizard staring at the flames. There is something haunting about how that man looks at fire.

He sees the firbolg mutter some words as he lags behind his allies. He then hits the ground with his staff, a flame like light comes out of it flying towards Molly. Molly veers himself to the side and it flies into the fire wall behind him.

The monk catches up with her crew and looks around for him. Her brows furrow and her lips press tight into a frown.

He starts to run towards the woods, he could hopefully lose them in there, as he reaches the forest line he grabs a gray bag from his belt and reaches in to it, he might as well learn what the hell it does. He feels a fuzzy object inside of it, kinda weird but he’s willing to try it. He hurls it as far as he can towards the group.

It lands and turns into a giant elk. His mouth goes agape, he couldn’t say he was expecting that. He glances down at the bag and thinks to himself “I need to use you more often.”

The elk looks the group over and then spots the fire. It’s eyes probably go wide but Molly can’t see them. As he gets further into the forest he hears a loud grunt from a man, he can’t really wager a guess on who the elk hit.

He can hear some more grunting then a thunderous sound behind him, then a whoosh of air. He decides not to look behind him. He doesn’t need his heart to be pumping any faster than it already is.

He hears a shout and then a cry of pain that sounds like it came from the elk. Are really going to kill a creature that just came into existence? For shame he thinks in jest. On another day he’d do worse to the poor elk.

He can hear another loud shout, this one understandable. It sounds like the halfling. “Where the fuck did they go?!”

He hears another person behind him. Great. But it does seem to be less than before he got into the woods which is good.

More footsteps thud against the ground behind him. He takes a look back and the half orc is about twenty feet away from him. Then about ten feet behind him is the firbolg and the wizard, there’s some mud on the wizard for some reason.

Then sprinting from between the trees the monk catches up with the half orc. She gives him a small nod. 

He sprints forward, weaving through the trees trying to lose his pursuers. Finding a short enough tree he clambers up it and stays still, holding his breath hoping they don’t look up. He can feel the slight shift as his body reenters the material plane. It just feels more solid, even though he knows that’s just a trick his mind is playing on him. 

He watches as Fjord passes by the tree he’s in, he keeps turning his head looking for something. Something he isn’t going to find down there. He moves past the tree.

He then watches as everyone does the same. All looking more confused and frustrated than the last till all of them have gone away. He then just waits for minutes on end, each second going torturously slow.

Dusk brakes before he dares to climb down from the branches. He’s sore and his leg is covered in his own dried blood at this point. But he’s alive and uncaptured so there were upsides to his situation.

He collapses against the tree he was hiding in and then leans against it, looking up at the purple-pink sky expelling a breath. While he is in pain and frustrated with how all of  _ that  _ went. He can’t help but appreciate what he was looking at. It was calming in a sense, and after all that anticipation and tension calmness was probably something he could use. He’d prefer  _ fun _ , but he couldn’t be picky.

He pulls the note of his pocket and stares at it for a few minutes, going over the word in it. Something in him pinged with a loneliness and heartache he was unable to place till now. He belongs to a group, a pack, and yet he’s completely alone.


	5. Merry Here

Night has fallen and he needs rest, desperately. It’d been a while since he got so beaten up. He was going to be feeling the bruises from this day for the next two weeks. That group, the Might Nein, had clue how lucky they were to have two clerics on hand to heal up their injuries. He just has to do it the old fashioned way, time and the occasional drink.

Not of any sort of health potion, he doesn’t have any at the moment. Instead of some random bottle of wine he picked up somewhere along the way and forgot about. He is thankful for it at the moment as he takes a swig. It tastes more sour than fruity and there’s some underlying bitterness but it was better than the slight iron taste left in his mouth from earlier.

That monk, Beau. She knows how to thorw a fucking punch and make it  _ hurt _ . He has to admit that he respects that. His punches would probably sting but do nothing like hers, even discounting all the monk-y magicalness of her punches. 

He sits down underneath a tree, the moonlight streams through the leaves above him. It brings him some comfort. Since he came back he’s found he prefers the nighttime over daytime, having nightvision probably is a factor, he can see at night unlike those unlucky humans. But honestly it isn’t that huge a factor, it’s more the mystery the night brings mixed with the chiller air.

He takes another swig of the wine. He knows he’ll need to get back to work first thing in the morning, cause as far as he knows the Mighty Nein are still headed straight for the hideout. He isn’t sure why Avila wants them away so badly, she was already gone and took the important things with her. But she did and that's what really mattered, there is no real arguing with her, even when he wants to. He’d much rather not be in the middle of the woods covered in bruises chasing some pointless mission from her. But even with that in mind, he couldn’t will himself to stand up and walk away, just leave this ridiculous job in the dust and go do something he’d actually enjoy.

Hell it was almost a fight with himself to be resting, some part of him wanted to just get up and go try again. He knows that doing that would end so badly but part of him, a part that’s solely concerned for what Avila wants of him, says that’s the thing to do. The pain quiets it down thankfully. It’s probably fucked up that he’s thankful for the amount of pain he’s in right now, but he’s got bigger problems, ones he might be able to do something about.

Like the silence all around him, besides from the slight rustles of the trees there was nothing. It’s probably a strange thing to focus on but out of all his opinions it’s probably the least distressing to think hard about. It was just a bother, not some deep thing that could trouble hin to his very soul, at least as long as he doesn’t turn it into that.

“♪Now, since we're met, let's merry, merry be, In spite of all our foes.♪” It comes out quiet and a bit breathy from the heaving he’s having to do due to the pain he’s in, but it comes out of his mouth breaking the silence.

“♪And he that will not merry be, We'll pull him by the nose.♪” He’s not sure where he learned the drinking song, he knows it wasn’t something he just overheard while in a tavern, he wouldn’t know all the lyrics.

“♪Let him be merry, merry there, while we're all merry, merry here.♪” The song is supposed to be rousing, but when being sung by a tiefling alone in the woods with a crap bottle of wine and many injuries it sounds sadder than it ought to.

“♪For who can know where he shall go to be merry another year?♪” A tankard of ale would really hit the spot right now, but instead he just takes another swig of wine between verses.

“♪He that will not merry, merry be, with a generous bowl and a toast, may he in Bridewell be shut up and fast bound to a post.♪” He swears he learned it some evening at a campsite? That doesn’t make any sense though, the only times he camped out he was alone.

“♪Let him be merry, merry there, while we're all merry, merry here. For who can know where he shall go to be merry another year?♪” It’s probably a better song if there’s a group singing it.

“♪He that will not merry, merry be, and take his glass in course, may he be obliged to drink small beer, ne'er a penny in his purse.♪” This isn’t making him feel any better, not one fucking bit. 

In fact it somehow has manged to make him feel worse. So much for silence being a decent option to focus on.

He takes a last swig from the wine bottle, it’s still got plenty of wine in it. But he doesn’t want any more. With a scowl on his face he trows it as hard as he can against a tree across from him. It smashes against the wood, ruby colored liquid spilling over the dirt and moss as glass rains down the side of the tree.

“♪For who can know where he shall go to be merry another year?♪” It comes out half bitter, half pained.

He stares at the glass that is almost gittering in the streams of moonlight. “What a waste.” He muses to himself. It’s something  _ he’s  _ lain waste to.

His eyes wanders to the wine, which in the dark upon dirt and plant he has to admit looks like blood. It’s not nearly as thick and it’s more  translucent but the light can play tricks on the mind. It's a sight he’s seen before many, many times on Avila’s orders. Animals, monsters, beasts, people…

He pulls out the note, it’s for a friend, for someone he has to presume was a.. Gentle person? For lack of a better word at least. But here it is in the hands of a cruel agent of… well mainly death. And it has his name on it. Once he’s done with the Mighty Nein he might try asking Avila if he can go to Zedash. He doubts she’ll say yes, but he can at least then tell himself that he’s tried. Even though he already knows that once he says that to himself it will feel like a lie. Like he should just try fighting Avila and leave.

Even though he knows it’s not that simple.

He looks up at the sky, stars have started to appear. Like specks of dust. He doesn’t know why he’s talking or who it’s to but he slowly sings. “ ♪ Let them be merry, merry there, while i’m all merry, merry here. ♪ ”

He doesn’t even know who  _ they  _ are. But whoever those friends of his were he hopes they are alright.

* * *

Sunlight streams down onto his face, his eyes open a crack. He can see vague shapes of green above him as the leaves catch the light on them. His body feels a lot better, breathing comes with ease and everything is just… less sore.

He pulls himself up and looks down at himself, blood and bruises still covered him. He is lucky to not be squeamish about this sort of thing, though he supposes if he were he wouldn’t be a blood hunter now would he?

He looks over at where he smashed the wine bottle. Ants covered the ground gunning for the sweet sugar from the wine. He eyes the glass on the ground with a frown, then turns to preparing himself for round two.

He pulls some twine out from his haversack and starts to pull his hair back into a ponytail. He’s going to want to hit them hard and fast, get in, strike one of their less armored members, then get the hell out. He just needs them distracted and somebody being critically injured will have to do the trick. He thinks about each of the members of the Mighty Nein. Jester, Fjord and Caduceus are all well armored, Beau and Veth are nimble fuckers, Yasha is built like a dragon, but Caleb, Caleb doesn’t have any of that. He’s got spells sure but that’s not much good if taken off guard.

A smile curls onto his lips as he gathers his things and starts heading back towards the road. Glass crutches under his boots into the wine soaked ground. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did actually look up old drinking songs for this, the one he's singing is real.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!


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